


smooth seas dont make good sailors.

by peerieweirdo



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Also Tucker is an adorable dad, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Tailor!Wash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peerieweirdo/pseuds/peerieweirdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling for someone when you're getting paid to pick out the suit for their wedding probably isn't a good idea, but Wash has never really made the best decisions anyway.<br/>[AKA the one where Washington is a tailor, Tucker is very hard to please, and Church is possibly the worst best man of all time.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Look, I’m on my way,” Tucker insisted down the phone. He used his free hand to grab a pair of boxers from his dresser. He was definitely not on his way. 

“Dude, if you don’t get your shit together we’re gonna be late,” Church said. 

“Get off my dick alright, I’m practically halfway to your house.” 

He fumbled trying to take off his pyjama pants with one hand. Eventually he decided it wasn’t working, especially not so early in the morning. 

“Dude, I’ll call you back.” 

“You better not, you’re supposed to be fucking driving.” 

“Whatever.” He hung up on Church, who was probably cursing his name right about now. He didn’t know why Church was so worried about being late, it was _his_ appointment. Church was just there for best-man duty. 

Quickly getting dressed, Tucker stretched slightly. 

He didn’t have time to eat, otherwise Church would actually _murder_ him, but he figured they’d go out for lunch after the fitting anyway, so he didn’t mind that much. 

And, finally, he got into his car. Luckily there wasn’t much traffic, and he wasn’t exactly one for obeying speed limits anyway. Blaring music on the radio, he sped down the road and arrived at Church’s house in record time. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Church demanded the moment he opened the door. 

“Traffic, dude, I was stuck in a jam. That’s how I was able to call you.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Church said, clearly not believing him. 

“Relax, your sister recommended this guy because they used to work together, I’m sure he won’t mind if we’re a little bit late.” 

* * *

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, there was traffic-“ 

“I don’t care. You miss your appointment, you have to reschedule.” 

“Aw come on! We didn’t miss it, we were like five minutes late!” 

“Seven and a half minutes. In that amount of time I could have already picked you out a suit,” the tailor crossed his arms. 

He certainly didn’t _look_ like a tailor. Or at least, what Tucker though a tailor would look like. This guy was ripped, and looked like he could probably snap someone’s neck with his bare hands. 

And with that stare he was giving Tucker, it seemed that maybe someone’s neck _would_ get snapped. 

“Okay, so that’s bullshit. I’m a very picky customer.” 

Church shot Tucker a look that probably meant he wanted him to shut up, but Tucker had never exactly been great at that. 

“Well then maybe you should go to another tailor. One who allows tardiness.” 

“Fine,” Tucker shrugged. He totally had this guy pinned. “If you think I’m too much of a tricky customer, and you aren’t up for the job, I’ll totally go to someone else.” 

“I know what you’re doing. You can’t poke my ego into letting you have an appointment today.” 

“I’m offended,” Tucker said, putting his hand over his heart over-dramatically. “That’s totally not what I was doing.”

The tailor rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms. Seriously, how did that guy get biceps that large? Tucker would have to ask him what his workout routine was. 

“You can come back tomorrow. That is, if you can get there on time.” 

Tucker sighed. This guy was a real hardass. 

He turned to leave, and Church followed suit. 

“Man, I can’t see why Carolina likes this guy, he’s almost as much of a dick as your dad,” he mumbled to Church as he left.

“Wait!” the tailor called after him. “I guess there’s still time left to get started.” 

Tucker smiled.

“Nice, dude! So I want a tux that makes me look totally hot, not that I’m not already…”

* * *

Tucker was, without a doubt, one of the most obnoxious people that Wash had ever had to deal with. 

And he used to work for the _Director._

He had a tight schedule to run, here, and his time as a soldier had taught him to stick to it. He hardly thought that asking for punctuality made him Director-level dick. 

But whatever.

Tucker probably didn’t know what he was talking about. 

Wash wasn’t going to let it bother him. 

“What about this one?” he asked exasperatedly, holding up what felt like the hundredth tuxedo.

Tucker looked it over for a while, his brow furrowing. 

Wash knew that that was a good sign. Every time Tucker had _hated_ something, he’d said so straight away. The fact that he was taking his time boded well. 

“I guess it’s okay. Can I try it on and ask Church?” 

“Of course,” Wash said, handing the tux over to Tucker then walking out of the small room to let him change in peace. 

He leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d had to deal with picky customers before, but Tucker seemed impossible to please.

They were ‘too dorky’ or ‘too baggy’ or ‘didn’t show off his abs enough’. 

_Seriously?_ What kind of tux showed off abs anyway?

Did Tucker want to walk down the aisle shirtless?

Wash decided not to think about it. 

Eventually, Tucker swung the door open and walked out wearing the tux. Wash nodded to himself. Despite everything, Tucker looked good. 

The tux had narrow lapels and skinny arms that really suited his lean figure. 

“Want to go ask your friend?” Wash said. 

“Sure, dude, let’s go!” Tucker bounced on his heels and headed off along the corridor, practically skipping. 

Wash rubbed his temples, before following Tucker with a more reasonable pace. 

When he reached the seating area, he found Tucker was already holding various poses for his best man. He was flexing and holding his arms out like that Usain Bolt. 

“What do you think dude?”

Church scratched his chin. “…I dunno.” 

Tucker dropped his arms to his sides and stood up straight. 

“What do you mean you don’t know? I look totally hot!” 

“Okay first off, no. And second, the colour’s all weird. You look like a grandpa.”

Wash bit his tongue. It wasn’t his place to give his opinion, even if Church was wrong and even if he desperately wanted to make this sale and get it over with. 

Tucker looked down at himself. “Hm. I guess you’re right.” 

Wash sighed. This was going to be hard. 

“Back to the dressing room!” 

Tucker once again bounces along the corridor, with Wash trailing behind him. 

* * *

Wash was near the end of his tether. 

It was hard enough to find something that Tucker liked, but then whenever they showed Church they couldn’t seem to agree. 

It had been hours, and Wash was considering pulling the fire alarm just to get them to leave. 

“How about this?” he said, as Tucker checked himself out in the mirror swearing a typical black tux. 

“Nah, it’s too Bond-like. Not that I couldn’t be Bond because, hello, look at me. But I don’t think my fiancee would like it.” 

“Yeah, tell me about her,” Wash said, rifling through the racks trying to find something Tucker hadn’t seen before. 

“Well, she’s _super_ hot, I mean obviously to get a catch like me-“ 

Tucker was interrupted by the sounds of a song that Wash vaguely recognised.

“Is your ringtone Fifth Harmony?”

“Shut up, Junior likes them,” Tucker said, and answered the phone before Wash had the chance to ask who Junior was. 

“Yeah? Seriously? Shit, okay, I’ll be right there. Yeah, no, it’s fine. Okay, see you soon.” 

He hung up, and turned to Wash. 

“I’m sorry dude I have to go, Junior just threw up and I gotta go get him. Can I make another appointment?” 

“Of course,” Wash said, before realising that Tucker was undressing right in front of him. He hadn’t been lying about the abs. 

“Just talk to the secretary on the way out.”

“Thanks, man, see you later.” 

Tucker rushed out of the small room, leaving Wash standing there dumbstruck surrounded by suits.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Tucker rushed into the school, heading straight for the nurse’s office. He had told Church to suck it up and get a bus home, which had earned him a lot of insults, but he didn’t care. 

Church’s house was out of the way and it would take ages to drive him home.

He walked through the corridors of the elementary school. Every time he came here, he was struck with how tiny everything was. 

Surely it wasn’t that small when _he_ was a kid?

He reached the nurse’s office and found Junior sitting on a plastic chair, his feet swinging about half a foot from the ground. 

“Hey buddy,” Tucker leaned down to Junior’s eye height. “Heard you weren’t feeling so well.” 

Junior shook his head. 

“Your teacher called and said you could come home with me, yeah?” 

Junior nodded. 

“Okay,” Tucker stood up and offered his hand to Junior, who took it. 

Just then, a woman walked into the room. 

“Ah, you must be Mr Tucker.” 

“Yeah, I am,” he smiled. “I’m just here to take Junior home. Thanks for taking care of him.” 

“No problem. I’m sure you know the rules about vomiting.” 

“He can’t come back to school for at least forty-eight hours, I know. Nice talking to you!” 

Tucker nodded to her, before leading Junior out of the doors and towards the car. 

“Hey, it’s a nice day. If you want we could chill in the park for a while?” 

“I think I should lie down,” Junior mumbled. 

“Lying down can be fun! We’ll set you up on the couch, and I’ll ask Caboose if I can borrow his Pixar DVDs, how does that sound?” 

Junior’s face lit up, and Tucker let out a sign of relief. He turned the key in the ignition, and they were off along the highway. 

Junior leaned forward and hit a few buttons on the car’s radio, turning the music on. Tucker groaned when he released who it was. 

“Taylor Swift? Seriously dude? Haven’t you heard this song like a billion times already?” 

“Dad, I’m sick, I get to choose the music. It’s the law.”

“I don’t think that’s a real law,” Tucker said, but he let Junior keep the music anyway. And by the time it got to the chorus, he found himself singing along. 

Say what you like, but that girl knew how to write a catchy tune. 

* * *

“Buddy, it’s okay. Stop crying. It’s just a movie.” 

“B-but Andy loved those toys! And now they’re gone!” 

“They’re not gone, they’re with someone else now. Someone else who loves them.” 

Despite his best efforts, Tucker couldn’t get Caboose to stop sniffling. 

It didn’t help that the Junior was obviously exhausted and was crying along with him.

Damn, he thought Pixar movies were meant to be for _kids._ It had been bad enough with the lonely old man and the balloons, but now _this?_

Tucker couldn’t handle having to calm two people crying in his apartment. 

“Ooookay, how about we watch this Wally one?” 

“It’s Wall-E Dad,” Junior reminded him. 

“Sure, whatever. You want any soup before we start?” 

“Yes please!”

“I was asking _Junior,”_ Tucker said. 

“Oh. Then no thank you,” Caboose said, wiping the last tears from his face. 

“What do you think, kid? Soup?”

“Is it chicken noodle?” Junior asked from under a mountain of blankets. 

“Obviously, what kind of a father do you think I am?” 

“Then yeah.”

“Okay, one chicken noodle soup, coming right up!” 

Tucker walked through to the kitchen, but stopped when he heard Caboose begin to sob again.

“Fine, _two_ chicken noodle soups.” 

He totally didn’t sign up to look after _two_ kids. 

* * *

 

Wash was good at his job. His next three clients left completely satisfied, with perfect suits and time to spare. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of failure that he’d had to let Tucker leave without his tux. Sure, they’d been cut short and he’d made another appointment, but it was a pride thing. 

Wash had _never_ failed before. 

He sighed, turning off the lights and walking through to the foyer. 

“You can go early, CT. I don’t have anyone else,” he said quietly. 

“Okay, great!” the receptionist said, grabbing her purse and standing up. “You have a good night.” 

“Yeah, you too,” Wash replied, distracted. 

Then CT was gone. 

And Wash was alone. 

The building was quite eerie in the dark. Out of the corner of your eye, a wedding suit could easily be mistaken for an attacker. 

It had gotten better, though. Wash’s nerves had settled over the years. Time healing wounds, and all that.

He walked through the clothing racks to the back room, where a tuxedo was set up on a mannequin. Wash picked up his sewing kit and set to work. 

It was the best tux he’d ever made. The colour was perfect, and it would fit the form well. The material was the expensive kind- he couldn’t cut any corners on quality here. 

But it wasn’t perfect. 

Wash couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something wasn’t quite right. He examined the sleeves, the lapels, the collar. It was all fine. 

“Don’t worry, York,” Wash mumbled. “I’ll make sure you look good for your big day.” 

* * *

 

“How did it go?” Carolina asked over dinner. “Hope my brother didn’t say anything too dickish.”

“He didn’t say much. I think Tucker talked enough for both of them. Plus, I don’t think Church even remembered me anyway.”

Carolina laughed. “He always did have a shitty memory.” 

They ate in silence for a while. The food wasn’t bad. Wash knew that cooking for Carolina was the least he could do at this point, but eating dinners together made everything feel less overwhelming.

“How was your day?” Wash asked, glancing over to Carolina, who was picking at her food absent-mindedly. 

“Pretty good. I talked to the florist, got the flower arrangements sorted. And the church is booked.”

“Not long now.” 

“No, it’s not. How’s York’s suit coming along?” 

“Just got a few more tweaks. He’ll look amazing.”

Carolina smiled. “He always does.”

A crash came from the kitchen and both Wash and Carolina shot up, their reflexes snapping them into combat positions. 

Wash relaxed when he realised what it was. 

“Epsilon.”

He walked through to the kitchen, picking up the source of the crash and carrying it through to the other room. 

“Hey, kitty,” he crooned. “I know it’s a big change, having Delta come live with us, but he’s settling in well.” 

Wash looked over to the sleeping cat on the sofa, then back to the squirming kitten in his arms. 

“I still can’t believe my dad convinced you both to name your cats after the Greek alphabet,” Carolina scoffed. 

“Hey, it wasn’t juts us! North has Theta, Tex has Omega-“

“Omega doesn’t count, he’s a _dog._ And Tex only did it to fit in, like she’s ever going to be one of us. She just showed up halfway through training and beat CT to a pulp. Or have you forgotten that?” 

“She also saved our lives on countless occasions, but I guess you’ve forgotten _that,”_ Wash set Epsilon down on the ground and sat back down again. 

“She’s not part of the team and she never will be.”

“You should cut her some slack. She went through it all with us, and she _is_ your sister in law.” 

“I don’t care.”

“You should. Aren’t you both going to be at Tucker’s wedding?”

“I guess.”

“He probably won’t want you two fighting.” 

“Since when have you cared about what Tucker wants?”

_Good question._

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda rude but im not sorry  
> (this chapter's dedicated to anna who yelled at me multiple times)

“Okay, round two!” Tucker burst into the shop. He saw the receptionist smile and wave, and he winked back. 

“Wash!” CT called, “Mr Tucker is here!” 

Wash walked through to the foyer, giving Tucker a curt smile and a nod. 

“I’ve dropped Junior off with Caboose along with three tons of soup, so let’s get going!” 

“Right, let’s just go through here,” Wash led Tucker along the corridor into the back room. “So, who’s Junior?” 

“Oh! He’s my kid. Forgot to say that.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, is the mother your fiancee?” 

Tucker burst out laughing, which caused Wash to jump a bit. Tucker felt bad for startling him, but it was a bit weird that such a buff guy could get so easily scared. Seriousy, Wash was built like a _tank._

Total goals. 

Not that Tucker wasn’t fit, obviously. He had muscles. Huge, powerful muscles. 

Wait what were they talking about? 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Oh, uh, she’s not my fiancee,” Tucker coughed. “His mom was a one night stand, he wasn’t planned. Not that I’d ever tell him that. As far as he’s concerned, he was dropped off by aliens or something.”

“I see,” Wash began searching through for a tux that Tucker hadn’t seen yet. “And your fiancee?” 

“Aw man she’s awesome. Smoking hot, and she’s totally in love with me, just like all the ladies.” 

“Sure.” 

Tucker saw Wash give a small smile, which let him know that this was playful joking. Well two could play at that game. 

“You don’t believe me? I’m super attractive _and_ a very attentive lover. 

“I really don’t want to think about what you’re like as a lover. What about this?” he turned around and presented Tucker with a plain, grey suit. 

“Nah, too boring.” 

Tucker knew he was being tricky, and it made him feel guilty that he was turning them all down, but he wanted the wedding to be perfect. He was marrying the girl of his dreams and he knew she’d look stunning. He just wanted to return the favour. 

“This?” 

“Dude, I don’t want _shoulder pads._ I need to look normal.” 

Tucker watched Wash blink. “So you don’t want a traditional suit because it’s _boring,_ but you don’t want a contemporary one because you want to look _normal?”_

Tucker sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t really describe it, dude. I mean I want it to look like a normal tux, but if it’s just black of grey then I’ll look the same as every guy at the damn wedding, and basically every wedding ever.” 

“So what do you want?” 

“I don’t _know,_ ” Tucker said, frustrated. “I can’t put my finger on it. I’ll just know it when I see it.” 

Wash furrowed his eyebrows and bit his lip slightly. “I don’t really know how I can help you, then.” 

Tucker nodded, defeated. He’d assumed that this would happen sooner or later. He needed to tell Church to find him a new tailor. 

“Okay, uh, see you then.” He turned to leave, but felt Wash grab his hand to stop him. 

“I said I didn’t know how. I didn’t say I couldn’t try.” 

Tucker grinned. 

“Let’s go, then.” 

* * *

This was impossible. Tucker wanted to be able to say _‘yes! That’s the one! Sign me up!’_ to everything Wash brought out.

But he just _couldn’t._ Wash was trying his hardest, but he just couldn’t find Tucker what he wanted. 

After a few hours, Wash was looking uncharacteristically frazzled. His usually neat hair was sticking up slightly and Tucker had to stifle a laugh every time he looked over. 

“I’m stumped. Want a coffee?” 

“Sure, black and tons of sugar please,” Tucker said. 

Wash nodded, heading off through a door saying ‘staff only’. 

After a split second, Tucker got off his seat and following him. 

The elusive ‘staff only’ room was a bit of a letdown. It felt kinda like a teacher’s lounge from high school, complete with grey plastic chairs and ‘motivational’ posters plastering the walls. 

Tucker wondered if they were Wash’s idea as he stared at one of a kitten about to fall off a branch. 

Wash was by a small kitchenette, staring intently at the coffee machine, with a look of intense concentration. 

“Can’t you read the sign?” he joked, not taking his eyes away from the machine. 

“What can I say, I’m a rebel,” Tucker shoved his hands in his pockets and walked into the middle of the room. 

And that’s when he saw it. 

“Holy shit.” 

“What?” 

“It’s perfect,” he walked over to the mannequin in the corner and reached out to touch the fabric. 

“Tucker…” he could hear Wash walk up behind him. 

“Why didn’t you show me this one?” he turned around to look at Wash, who’s face looked like he was on the verge of divulging bad news. 

“It’s… it’s for York.”

“York?” Tucker stared blankly for a moment. He noticed that Wash’s left eye was blue, but his right was brown. Interesting. And also totally not the time. 

“Wait you mean Carolina’s…?”

“Yeah.” 

“Why would he need a suit?” 

Wash didn’t say anything, breaking eye contact and shuffling his feet awkwardly. 

“Oh. _Ooooh._ ” 

Tucker felt like an idiot. 

“That’s soon, isn’t it?”

“Tomorrow.” 

“Shit.” 

It’s official. Tucker was an asshole. The world’s worst person. Ever. 

“That’s why Church couldn’t come with me today, _God_ I’m an idiot.” 

“Hey, you’re not an idiot. You’ve never met York and you only know Carolina through Church.”

“Yeah but still I should have remembered a date for something as big as this. I’m a shitty friend.” 

“No way. I’m sure Church is happy to have a friend like you,” Wash handed Tucker a mug of coffee. 

Tucker took a tentative sip, and found, despite his expectations, that it was perfect. 

Wash must have noticed his surprised expression, because the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “I have it the exact same way.” 

“Well then, cheers to probable diabetes,” Tucker held out his mug, and Wash clinked them together. 

 “You ready to try again?”

“I guess we can try,” Tucker said, and they both headed back into the main room. Looking around, Tucker couldn’t find a single suit he hadn’t already looked at. He turned to Wash, who was looking at the racks with an expression that meant he was probably thinking the exact same thing.

“Any grand ideas?” Tucker asked. 

“Nope.” 

“Cool.” 

They stood around for a while, just staring. 

Tucker jumped slightly when he felt his phone vibrating. He took it out of his pocket to see a text from Caboose. 

 

Michael Jackson: heyyy dood sO leik can we have candie? where is candy okey bi

 

Wash looked over his shoulder. 

“Michael Jackson is texting you? Wow talented guy, he can moonwalk and grave-text.” 

“It’s Caboose, because he’s Michael J Caboose.”

“Oh,” Wash laughed. “It looks like your son got Caboose’s phone.”

“Nope,” Tucker said. “That’s how Caboose texts.” 

“Wait, let me see that,” Wash grabbed the phone from Tuckers hands and started examining the back of it. 

“What the hell, dude?! You can’t just steal people’s phones!” 

“Do you like this colour?” 

Tucker looked at his phone. He’d never really thought about it, but on second thought, yeah, the colour of the case was pretty nice. 

“Uh, yeah?” 

“I’ll be right back.”

Wash rushed away, still holding Tucker’s phone, and reappeared later with a suit. It was normal cut, just like all of the others. But one difference. 

This one was turquoise. 

“Dude,” a smile spread across Tucker’s face.

“Bingo.” 

* * *

“You ready for this?” Wash asked, tucking a strand of hair behind Carolina’s ear. 

She sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I just feel like when I finally see him, it’ll all be real, and everything I’ve been feeling will come back in full force. I really don’t want to cry in front of my dad.” 

“Hey, it’s perfectly normal to cry. I’ll be here to mop you up.”

Carolina gave him a watery smile and straightened his bow tie. 

“You know for someone who works as a tailor, you’d think I’d see you in a tux more often. You look good.” 

“Thanks,” he smiled. “You wanna go in?”

“Sure,” Carolina said, taking Wash’s arm. Wash steeled himself before opening the heavy church door and stepping inside. 

The church was cool, a blessed relief from the scorching Texas sun. It was also quiet, and Wash didn’t know why this surprised him so much. What was he expecting? Dancing? 

He glanced over to Carolina to make sure she was okay, but her eyes were fixed ahead of her. The walk along the aisle seemed to take ages. 

Eventually they got there, and Wash wasn’t even aware that he’d been holding his breath until it was over. 

And then they were next to York. 

The suit fit him perfectly, that was nice to know. 

Still, Carolina had been right. 

Seeing him lying there, in his casket, eyes closed and face calm in a way it never had been in life, made the fact of his death undeniable. 

York was dead, and Wash was only fully realising it now. 

He quickly wiped his eyes. He wasn’t meant to be the one getting emotional here. But when he looked over to Carolina, her expression was stony. 

“I don’t know what I was expecting. He looks the same,” she looks up to meet Wash’s gaze. “He even looks happier somehow.” 

Wash says nothing. It’s probably better for Carolina to get this out of her system. 

“God, I was an idiot,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “He gave me the option of going with him. I should have taken it.” 

“You couldn’t have known-“

“I know, but, still. I should have known there would be dangers. It was a stupid mission to go alone.”

“He wasn’t alone. He was with-“

“Tex. Yeah,” Carolina laughed bitterly. “And a whole lot of good that did, didn’t it?” 

Wash didn’t want to start an argument with Carolina. Any day but this one. 

“Do you wanna go first, or should I?” Wash asked. 

“You can go.” 

Wash nodded, and took a deep breath. “Okay, so. Uh, goodbye, York. It’s just a word but it’s one I never really got to say because… because I assumed you’d come back. You _always_ came back. So, goodbye, because I never said that.

“But I also never said a lot of other stuff. I never told you how scared I was on my first ever day of training, or how relieved you made me by sitting next to me for lunch. You shared your sandwiches, remember that?” 

Wash knew York couldn’t reply. York was gone. But he kept talking anyway. 

“And, even though I eventually made friends with everyone else, you were the first and you’ll probably always be the closest. I just wanted to let you know how happy I am that you were my friend. That’s so much more important than goodbye.”

He had to stop there. He had more to say, but he wasn’t able to get it out. Plus, he needed to give Carolina some time alone with him. 

Giving her what he hoped was a comforting pat on the back, Wash walked over to a pew where North and Maine were milling about. 

“Hi,” he said flatly. 

“Hey.” 

“Where’s South?”

“She didn’t want to come,” North said. “Said it was too depressing.”

“Depressing? It’s a funeral.” 

“Apparently it’s ‘not what York would have wanted’. As if she’d know,” he scoffed. 

“None of us knew. He didn’t exactly leave a will or a note os anything. Didn’t know it was gonna happen.” 

They stood in silence for a while. Wash wasn’t exactly sure what to say. And North had gotten him worrying. _Was_ this what York would have wanted?

They hadn’t ever discussed funerals. Not when they started training, not when they went into the field for the first time, and especially not when they were under heavy fire. That would make the possibility seem real. 

 _‘It seems pretty damn real now,’_ Wash thought bitterly.

He looked to Carolina. He’d been expecting tears, but she looked surprisingly together. She was chatting to York perfectly normally, as if it was just a conversation over coffee. 

The director was standing at the door, on parade rest, as if this was just a normal business meeting. Maybe to him it was. Wash wasn’t sure he’d even have been there if York hadn’t been a soldier under his command, despite his relationship with Carolina. 

The director was kinda a huge dick.

“How’re you doing?” Maine asked softly. 

“I’m okay, but I’m really not the one you should be worrying about.” 

“You were the last person to see him before-“

“Except Tex. Who was _there with him._ Who almost died too. You want to show some sympathy, give it to her or Carolina.” 

North and Maine shared a guilty look, and Wash probably would have felt bad if he wasn’t so sick of being tiptoed around. He was _fine._

“Tex is with Church right now, and I don’t think Carolina really wants to see her.” 

“Well they’re going to have to get along, or at least not fight, when York’s getting buried. We all went through the same thing, and it’ll be worse if we aren’t talking to each other.” 

“If you want to try and get those two working together, be my guest,” Maine laughed. “Better you than me. Now come on, let’s go give Carolina a hug.” 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Tucker sat on the couch, Junior lying on his lap, sleeping peacefully. 

He was _exhausted._ Junior had been up the entire night with a headache, and Tucker had been there the whole time, trying his best to make him feel better. And although he knew it was out of his control, he just felt so awful whenever Junior was unhappy. 

It was his _job_ to not let his kid be sad. 

Junior had fallen asleep at three am, and Tucker sat been sitting stock-still for hours trying not to wake him up. Luckily, Junior had a puff of uncontrollable hair that acted as a cushion for his tiny head, so it was quite comfortable for the both of them. 

The whole situation was eerily peaceful, with the orange tinge of the streetlights coming through the windows, and the usual buzz of traffic having died down. Tucker felt himself nodding off, so when his phone began to ring it caused him to almost jump out of his seat. He quickly grabbed the phone and unlocked it before the noise could wake Junior any further. 

He began to stroke his son’s hair as he answered with a whisper.

“What is it?” 

“You awake?” Church’s voice came through, sounding tinny. Maybe his reception was bad.

“No, I’m sleep-talking to you, fuckwad,” Tucker replied. 

“Sorry, stupid question.”

Now that was weird. Church hardly ever responded to insults with apologies. It was usually more insults. Or sarcasm. Or sarcastic insults. 

“What’s up?” 

“Nothing much. Tex is asleep, and I’m just thinking about, like, death, you know?” 

And then it clicked. Church’s voice didn’t sound strange because of shitty reception. He was drunk. And also probably crying. 

“Because, like, people die all the time, right? And sometimes they die for some cause because they think they can make a fucking difference. But they never get to see it, do they?”

Tucker stayed silent. He heard Church take a breath down the phone, and he heard it hitch in his throat. 

“They have no clue if their death even changes anything. They just go for it and hope for the best.”

“I guess that’s not the point,” Tucker offered, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. 

“Then what is? If there’s a point to us living, there has to be a point to us dying, right? And if it’s not for any grand reason, then what the fuck is it?” 

Tucker thought he could hear Church crying slightly, but he decided not to push it. 

“Our lives don’t have any kind of reason, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t _valuable._ Human lives can’t be quantified by how well we achieve some predestined purpose. What really matters is the impact we make while we’re alive, on other people. We live on in how we’re remembered by our loved ones.

“I guess what I’m getting at is… can you drive me home?” 

“You’re an asshole,” Tucker rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, but you love me,” Church said, slurring slightly.

Tucker couldn’t exactly _argue,_ but he didn’t want to give Church the satisfaction of agreeing, so he once again stayed silent. 

* * *

“Junior, wake up,” Tucker said in his softest voice, gently shaking him. He let out the tiniest, sleepiest noise, which made Tucker make the least manly face possible because he was just _so goddamn cute._

“Come on, buddy. Your Uncle Church needs me so I’ve gotta take you to Rosefield, okay?” 

Junior cracked open a hopeful eye at that. Tucker knew the mention of Rosefield would get him awake. 

It was the name of the big old house his fiancee lived in. It was all wooden and mansion-ey and shit. 

Junior loved it there, because he could pretend it was full of secret passages and mysteries waiting to be solved. Tucker couldn’t wait until they moved in there permanently.  

Unfortunately, his fiancee’s dad was super traditional, and didn’t want them living together until they were married. 

Which, thank god, was happening pretty soon. 

“I’ll drive you, it’ll be an adventure.” 

And that’s how Tucker found himself bundling Junior into his car at half five in the morning, driving along the highway to Rosefield. 

By the time they got there, Junior was sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat, and Tucker didn’t have the heart to wake him up for a second time. 

He quietly slipped out of the car and walked up the drive of the house. He hadn’t texted beforehand, because he was pretty sure she’d have her phone off anyway. He’d just walk in using his key and wake her up, explaining the situation. Surely she’d understand? Church was one of his best friends and he’d just been at a funeral for god’s sake. His brother-in-law’s funeral. 

The old oak door was heavy to open, and the old house looked spooky in the early morning light. The house was cool and all, but Tucker couldn’t shake the feeling that it had probably been used to film horror movies on more than one occasion. 

He snuck up the stairs, wincing every time they creaked. On the first landing, he walked over to his fiancees room. 

And his blood ran cold. 

* * *

Wash woke up in Carolina’s apartment. This had become a common occurrence recently. 

Carolina being there helped him feel less alone as he slept, and he had a feeling that he did the same for her. 

He’d never slept in the double bed though , it just felt categorically wrong. Unnatural. That bed was Carolina’s and it had been York’s. 

But whenever Wash slept on the couch, Carolina joined him. 

The bed hadn’t been slept in for at least a week straight. 

Carolina was still asleep, and Wash realised that she’d have one hell of a headache when she woke up. She wouldn’t remember much of last night, but, as the group’s designated driver, Wash remembered the whole thing. The toast to York, which quickly turned into finishing the bottle, which turned into ‘hey there’s a bar near here’, which turned into ‘next round’s on me’, which turned into Wash being the only person able to form a sentence as he dropped them all off in their respective homes. 

And he knew that drinking probably made stuff easier to forget, and maybe a part of him was upset that he’d had to be lucid the whole night, but he was just glad _someone_ was looking out for the rest of them. North probably would have done it, if he could actually drive in the first place. But for some reason he’d never gotten his licence, and had no intentions to. 

South turned up halfway through the night, when everyone was too drunk to be pissed at her for blowing off the funeral. She’d said that she was there for the important part anyway. 

“Partying to his memory. This is more like York.” 

And Wash had to agree. York probably would have enjoyed the second half of the day way more than the wake and the burial and all of that crap. It just wasn’t his style. 

Wash stretched, stood up, and headed through to the kitchen. He knew the location of the medicine box from muscle memory. 

He got a couple of pills and poured a glass of water, then put them both on Carolina’s coffee table for her when she eventually resurfaced.

Glancing at the clock, Wash realised with surprise that it was one pm. He hadn’t slept in past noon since his teenage years. And if the Director knew…

He didn’t want to think about it. 

Even on weekends or days off, Wash had gotten into the habit of an early start. But yesterday had been understandably draining, plus him and Carolina hadn’t arrived home until seven am anyway. He was totally allowed to sleep in late. 

And that was when his phone rang. 

It was Tucker calling, which Wash thought odd. They weren’t scheduled to fit the suit for another week or so, and they weren’t exactly close enough to talk outside of that. So why was he calling? 

“Hello?” Wash lifted the phone to his ear. 

“Uh, hey buddy,” Tucker’s voice sounded thick, a lot less lighthearted than it always was. “Just to let you know that, uh, we won’t be needing that suit fitting. I won’t be needing the suit at all, in fact. The wedding’s off.” 

Wash blinked. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Don’t be,” Tucker replied. “It’s just one of those things.” 

And then Wash did something impulsive. Something the Director wouldn’t approve of. He’d been doing that a lot lately. 

“I think we both need a drink.” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

There wasn’t any kind of socially acceptable way to deal with this. In school, they taught you how to do algebra, and write essays and shit. But if you find your fiancee in bed with someone else while your kid sleeps in the car? 

Good fucking luck, buddy. 

And to be honest, Tucker probably wouldn’t have looked for comfort from Wash. He’d have called up Caboose, or maybe even a Red, before he went to his wedding tailor. Because that’s just sad. 

But, hey, Wash offered and Tucker wasn’t one to say no to some booze after the day he’d just had. 

And so Tucker found himself in a small bar in the centre of town at two pm on a Monday, downing shots with an ex-soldier-turned-suit-designer. 

“And the worst part is, like,” Tucker took another shot, “I probably could have noticed earlier, if I’d just gotten my head out my ass and looked at the signs. Because this wasn’t a one off thing. She’d been screwing this guy right underneath my nose from the minute I first asked her out.” 

He knew the word vomit was coming out, and he knew that Wash probably couldn’t care less about any of what he was saying, but he still needed to say it. Maybe if he talked it through, the way he’d explain a difficult concept to Junior, his own brain would start to make sense of it all. 

“But I was so fucking in love that I just ignored it all. I’m an idiot.” 

“Hey,” Wash said, “you’re not an idiot.” 

And, Tucker had to hand it to him, he almost sounded sincere. 

“This kinda shit ever happened to you?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew practically nothing about Wash, despite the fact that their lives were weirdly entwined by mutual friends.

“Nah,” Wash gave a small smile, and Tucker found himself wondering what it meant. Wash glanced down at the whisky in his hand. “I’ve only really had one serious relationship before, and that ended on pretty good terms.” 

“Oh, uh, congratulations?” Tucker said, then winced. Drunk Tucker was not smart Tucker. 

Wash laughed quietly, raising his head back up. “Thanks.” 

“The past few days have really sucked for both of us, haven’t they?” 

“Yep. The funeral was nice, I guess. As nice as a funeral for your best friend can be.” 

“At least you got to say goodbye?” 

“To be honest, I didn’t _want_ to say goodbye. I wanted to call him a nerd and then go out for drinks with him.” 

“I wish I could say I know how you feel,” Tucker said gloomily, “but I don’t. The only person I know who has died was Church, and even then it was just for a few minutes.” 

_“What?!”_

“Mini heart attack a few years ago. Got revived in the ambulance.” 

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” 

They sat in silence for a while, but Tucker didn’t feel the need to fill it. Or maybe he was just exhausted and drunk and sad and annoyed and totally not in the mood to talk. 

Thankfully, Wash didn’t push conversation either. They just drank in silence. 

And it made Tucker feel so much better than he could have expected. 

* * *

“Hey,” Tucker said to Wash, who was at this point so drunk he’d been explaining how to kill a man using only a drinking straw and a beer bottle cap. Wash stopped his story, looking at Tucker with wide eyes. 

“Yeah?” 

Tucker tried to focus on Wash’s face, but it was swimming around in front of him. He reached out to touch Wash’s cheek, just so he could get a grasp on where he was. Wash took Tucker’s hand and pulled it away from his face, and annoyed look twisting his features.

“What is it?” 

“I’m having a party.” 

“When?” 

“A bachelor party.” 

“When?” 

“It’s this pub called Chorus. Pretty shitty but it works.”

_“When?”_

“Saturday the… twenty… somethingth. I’ll text you. But it’s still booked even though the wedding’s off and goddammit I deserve it,” Tucker’s words were slurring and he was losing focus on Wash again. 

“You don’t have my number. Or I don’t have yours. Or we don’t have each other’s?”

“Gimme your phone,” Tucker demanded. “I’ll put my number in and when we’re sober you can text me asking about the bachelor party.” 

“Good plan.”

* * *

George Washington: Is this just my severe hangover talking or did you mention something about a bachelor party last night?

Lavernius Tucker: i must have… i can’t really remember lmfao. but yeah it’s on sat 24th at the chorus bar on great western road. 

George Washington: Great, see you there!

* * *

 

Wash puffed out air as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He was here. It was the right place. All he had to do was put one foot in front of the other and walk in. It was easy. But for some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

He had never been good at meeting new people, but his nerves had gotten even worse since… well…

Plus, this was an unfamiliar setting. Wash had never been in this part of town before, let alone this specific pub. 

After standing outside for fifteen minutes staring at the sign’s peeling paint, Wash decided that he was being ridiculous.

Or, more specifically, the annoying voice in Wash’s head decided that. 

“What’s the problem soldier?” the voice boomed around Wash’s mind. 

“Entering unfamiliar territory, sir. Exits unknown and no knowledge of how many people are in there.” 

“Well what are you waiting for? Get in there and find out!” 

“But, sir, I need more informa-“

“Not good enough, soldier! We don’t allow cowards in this army!” 

Wash sighed and rubbed his temples. Imagining his old boss yelling at him had never been the best motivator. Why did he keep doing it? Idiot. 

He brought his hand up to rub the small scar on his cheek, before forcing his feet to move. Now that he had the momentum, he didn’t even pause at the door, swinging it open and heading inside. 

_Okay, quick check. Two exits, the one I just came through and a fire exit in the far right corner. In a pinch, the pool table could be used to barricade one, cues could be a weapon, and I could always smash one of the bottles at the bar and hope I get a large enough shard of glass to use. Six civilians, none of which seem to be posing a threat. Two by the bar, and four playing pool._

_No Tucker._

Wash walked further into the centre of the room, catching the eyes of one of the guys by the bar. He was large, or maybe he just looked it next to his beanpole of a friend. He waved Wash over, so Wash pulled up a stool and joined them. 

“You must be Wash.” 

Wash raised his eyebrows. “Tucker’s mentioned me?” 

“Well the only people he’s invited to this party who aren’t reds or blues is some guy called Wash and a stripper. Unless you want to start gyrating your crotch any time soon I’m going to assume you’re Wash.” 

“Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Grif, this is Dick.”

“I’m _Simmons,”_ the skinner man said, reaching out a hand to shake. Wash took it, and Simmons cried out in pain. 

“What’s wrong?” Wash said, panicking. 

“N-nothing,” Simmons took his hand away. “You have a really strong grip.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.” 

“Don’t be, dude, Simmons is just a pussy,” Grif said, and Simmons made a few high pitched noises of protest. 

“Am _not!_ That guy is insanely strong.”

Wash laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not really, but I am sorry for hurting your hand.” 

“Don’t play it off, dude, that makes _me_ look bad! I’m serious-“

“And who might this be?” a new voice joined in the conversation, and Wash turned around to find himself face-to-face with a guy who looked about fifteen. 

“I’m Wash,” he choked out, after realising that this tiny kid was most likely not a threat. 

“Ooooh, Wash! Tucker’s mentioned you, you’re a tailor, right? I myself am interested in a bit of sewing from time to time-“

“Donut, get your ass over here and take your shot! There’s no way I’m losing to those dirty blues!” one of the guys from the pool table yelled over. Donut rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve gotta go take this shot. I sure do love putting things in holes,” he winked, then walked away. 

“Is he…?” 

“Yup,” Grif said, taking a swig from his beer. “He’s serious. Doesn’t realise what he’s saying half the time. Or, at least, I hope he doesn’t. He’s probably the best red aside from me.”

_“Hey!”_

“Shut up, Simmons, you know you’re a kiss ass.”

“You don’t seem to be complaining when it’s _your_ ass I’m kissing!” 

“Hey, guys?” Wash was careful interrupting what seemed to be quite an intense argument. “What’s the deal with calling people reds or blues?” 

“Oh, it’s a thing from work.” 

Before Grif could explain any further, Tucker came in from the bathroom. 

“Dude, you made it!” 

“I’m never going to pass up an opportunity to get drunk,” Wash said, and Tucker laughed. 

“Guys this is-“

“Wash. We know. Well, we guessed, since he doesn’t look much like the hot stripper you promised.” 

“Oh, trust me, you’ll know her when you see her,” Tucker said to Grif, smiling wide. “She’s _amazing._ I don’t believe any guy in this room will be able to resist her. Well, apart from Donut maybe.”

Before Wash had the chance to explain that female strippers were kind of totally one hundred percent _not_ his thing, Tucker’s hand was on his shoulder. 

“Now, what was it you were saying about getting drunk?” 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bachelor party continues  
> extra emphasis on BACHELOR

Tucker was drunk. 

He wasn’t sure how much he’d had, he kinda gave up counting once Grif dragged a huge keg into the middle of the room, picked up a pool cue and began challenging people to ‘beer wars’. 

And Wash was drunk. Tucker had stopped paying attention once Wash had defeated Grif and become ‘King Beer’.

One thing he was vaguely aware of noticing through his drunken haze, though, was that Wash drank a _lot._

He’d always seemed to have some stick up his butt when he was picking out a suit, and Tucker had finished that the night after the funeral had been a one off, but apparently not. Wash was completely hammered. 

And, Tucker’s friends weren’t exactly prudes. The reds especially. Caboose was basically six years old and Tucker and Church had elected to keep him away from alcohol, but Grif and Sarge could handle their liquor. And even Simmons and Donut, given enough encouragement. 

(In the case of Simmons, ‘enough encouragement’ was Grif handing him a beer and telling him to drink up.)

Safe to say, the party had gotten kind of wild. Wash was standing on the pool table, fighting off anyone who wanted to get near the keg, Sarge was yelling threats at everyone, and Donut was taking his pants off in the corner. 

They all fell silent, however, when Simmons yelled the three words that would _always_ catch Tucker’s attention. 

“The stripper’s here!”

Every head in the room snapped to the door, and began cheering when a figure appeared. 

Tucker grinned. He’d seen this girl a few times before, and she really was one of the best. This was the perfect way to get over his fiancee. 

His grin fell, however, when Grif bellowed ‘WHAT THE FUCK?!’

He snapped his head round to see Grif staring at the girl with horror. 

“ _Kai?!”_

“Omg, hey bro! What’s up? This is kinda awkward, huh?”

“You invited _my sister_ as the stripper?!” Grif marched up to Tucker with his eyes scarily dark.

“I didn’t know it was her!” Tucker tried desperately to defend himself. Grif was scary when he was pissed off. “I’ve never met your sister before!” 

“Well, you have. I gave you a lap dance, remember?”

“I think I’m gonna vomit,” Grif said. 

“Grif’s sister is _Santa?!”_ Caboose piped up, his voice full of genuine awe. 

“That’s not what a lap dance is, buddy.” 

“Oh. What exactly is a lap dance?” 

Tucker’s eyes flicked to the corner where Donut was pulling his jeans back on and heading over to the commotion. Wash was still standing on the pool table, seemingly totally unaffected by this turn of events. 

“I think we’ll have this conversation another time, Caboose.”

“So… do you still want me to take off my clothes?” 

_“Jesus Christ, sis, no!”_

* * *

The party, surprisingly, got even better once the stripper turned up, which was _not_ what Wash had been expecting. He had been scared that everyone would crowd around her and he’d be the only person still trying to actually have a good time, but instead he got some juicy family drama, and he got to meet Kai, who, it turned out, was a pretty cool girl. 

Grif had completely _forbade_ her from taking off her clothes, but she was still allowed to stay and Wash found himself sharing a drink with her on the steps outside at around two am. 

“So, do you like your job?” he began, awkwardly. 

“Yeah, totally. I get paid to go to parties and I just have to do what I usually do anyway.”

“Seriously? You don’t find it demeaning or anything?”

“Nope,” Kai shrugged. “It’s fun. I like people looking at me.” 

Wash furrowed his brow. “But don’t you get creepy dudes?”

“Uhuh, and _I_ have the power. It’s better than them ogling some other chick in public. Plus, they can’t touch me unless I let them. What about you?” 

“Oh, uh,” Wash flushed red and coughed. “I don’t really like people looking. I get pretty nervous around people I like.” 

“Okay, first, you’re like totally hot and I would climb you like a tree in a second so you should stop being so modest, and two, I meant do you like your job?” 

“Ooooh.”

Wash looked at Kai’s face. She looked amused, but not in a mean way. It reminded him of York. 

Or maybe that was just because _everything_ did recently. 

“So?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s okay I guess. It’s quiet. I never used to like the quiet.”

“So why did you go for it?”

“I needed something as far from my old job as possible.” At Kai’s confused look, Wash elaborated. “I was a soldier. And it didn’t really end well. So I guess I wanted something that had minimal consequences. Worst case scenario some rich guy turns up to his wedding looking slightly less good than he was wanting. Big whoop. Plus I already had the skills, from mending my uniforms.” 

He looked over to Kai and laughed at himself slightly, cradling the bottle between his hands before taking another swig. 

“Am I sounding like the most boring person ever?” 

“Wash, babe.”

He laughed slightly at the nickname.

“Take it from someone who once had an orgy with five police officers in the middle of a seven-eleven. Don’t underestimate boring.” 

Wash laughed, then trailed off as he realised Kai wasn’t joining him. 

“You’re kidding, right? You didn’t have an orgy in a seven eleven?” 

“Did someone just say the words ‘ _orgy in a seven eleven’_ without even inviting me?” another voice asked, joining them on the steps. Wash didn’t even have to look to know it was Tucker. Who else would make a comment like that?

“Hey, shouldn’t you be inside enjoying your party?” Wash asked. 

“It’s fun and all. but it’s literally a pity party. I kinda need a break from Donut waxing romantic about ‘the course of true love’ or whatever. Plus, it’s hot as balls in there.”

Wash glanced over. Tucker was indeed sweating and he didn’t want to admit that it was attractive. 

But, _damn,_ Tucker’s blue shirt was clinging to his torso and-

No. 

That poor guy had just had his wedding broken off. Not the time to have those thoughts. 

“I’m gonna go inside and see if I can slaughter my bro at a drinking contest. See you later,” Kai got up and headed inside, after sending Wash a pointed look. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to convey. 

When the door swung shut, muffling the music, Wash immediately wanted to fill the silence that had fallen around them both. 

He was just about to make some stupid comment about the weather, but Tucker cut him off. 

“Some bachelor party, right? The stripper can’t strip, and the bachelor isn’t even getting fucking married,” he laughed bitterly.

“Well on the plus side,” Wash said, “that makes you even _more_ of a bachelor. It’s like, the ultimate bachelor party.” 

Tucker laughed slightly, then his expression changed slightly. 

“What?” Wash asked. 

“Isn’t it weird that you’re the one cracking dumb jokes to stop me from being a party pooper?”

“I guess,” Wash smiled. “Wait a minute, who are you calling a party pooper?”

“Seriously, dude? The first time we met you were gonna make me cancel because I was five minutes late.”

“Seven and a half.” 

“That’s exactly what I mean!” 

“Sorry. I guess some habits die hard. The Director was really into punctuality.” 

“That’s Church’s dad, yeah?”

“Yeah. And Carolina’s. Don’t tell Church I said this, but he’s a dick.” 

“Don’t worry, I think Church’d agree with you.” 

“But seriously,” Wash could feel the rant bubbling up inside of him, “he would give us all rankings, and let us know who was better in the squad. He said a bit of competition was a good thing, but it just made us all turn against each other. Carolina especially. He was ranking _his own fucking daughter._ She became obsessed, wearing herself away. And it made us all take risks to try and get into his good books. And York…” 

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. He figured Tucker probably knew about York from Church. 

They sat in silence for a while, and to Wash’s surprise he was okay with that. He didn’t have to say anything. 

“Hey, you want another drink?” Tucker offered. 

“Uh, no thanks. I haven’t even finished this one,” Wash said. 

And that was just another in a long list of surprises. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr at acesirius (although i don't post much rvb but still you can talk to me about this au and stuff bc im excited)  
> also track the tag #rvbtau if you want updates and stuff


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